


Earth Still Turns So We Hang On

by ctj



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coming of Age, Friendship, Healing, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 15:56:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7763974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ctj/pseuds/ctj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>War ends, and life continues as it once did--except, not really. </p><p>Ilia, a country girl at heart, is ready to begin anew in Hyrule's capital city. Shad, a newly-minted PhD, is struggling to make a breakthrough in his research. Ashei, her years of army service complete, finds herself unsure of where to go next. A chance meeting takes a turn when the three realize that a common tragedy unites them--the suicide of their shared friend Lieutenant Link Greene, who saved all of their lives at one point, but at the cost of his own. </p><p>AU where the events of TP occurred in 2016.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Earth Still Turns So We Hang On

_The fact of the matter is that nobody saw it coming._

_Not Shad. Not Ashei. Not anybody._ _  
_

_The flashing red lights of the firetruck reflected in the asphalt, still wet from that morning's rain. A 2004 Honda Civic twisted around a telephone pole. Policemen and photographers and gawking pedestrians. Caution tape. Adrenaline. Terror._ _  
_

_"_ _Let me through! Let me through!"_

 _A crumpled body, dragged from the shredded remains._ _  
_

_"That's my friend! Let me through!"_ _  
_

_The sudden, snagged gasp of recognition, of reverence. A mournful cry. All hats removed, heads bowed. Utterances, each word desperate, drenched in disbelief._ _  
_

_"Oh gods-oh gods in heaven... have mercy. Oh gods..."_ _  
_

_A scholar on his knees. A wail, grappling up from the pit of that hollow, aching chest._ _  
_

_"He's my friend... that man-I mean-that boy..."_ _  
_

_No, no, no, no..._

* * *

EARTH STILL TURNS SO WE HANG ON  
_By CTJ_ _  
__Characters (c) Nintendo unless otherwise specified_

_If you've made my writing a part of your life:_

_This fic is for you._

* * *

**Separation**

_Your absence has gone through me_  
_Like thread through a needle_  
 _Everything I do is stitched with its color_

—W.S. Merwin

* * *

_6 Months Later_

_Rrrrring, rrrrring, rrrrring—_

"99B South Brewer Street, Shad speaking—what—gods, again? …Telma, I'm afraid I can't come right this moment, I'm working on my book— _yes,_ really! …Oh. I see."

A long, exhasperated sigh.

"I'll phone a cab. See you in a bit."

* * *

This happened:

"TAKE THIS, YOU RUDDY BASTARD!"

Fact: Ashei had two hands.

Fact: There was a Budweiser in one hand.

Fact: The other hand was free.

Fact: In logic we say, "If P, then Q."

P: Ashei gets drunk.

Q: Ashei gets violent.

(So we can conclude that if Ashei gets drunk [P], then she will get violent [Q].)

This happened.

Fact: Ashei tended to punch with her right hand.

Fact: The Budweiser was in her left hand.

What can we hypothesize from this information?

_Ashei got drunk, got violent, and used her dominant right hand to punch somebody in the face:_

This happened.

* * *

_Telma's Bar, Downtown Castleton, Lanayru Province  
1:07 A.M._

"Get 'im! Get 'im! Show 'im who's boss!" somebody yelled—some pimply faced boy—whatever—

"Ready for more?" Ashei taunted at her opponent, taking a swig of her drink and slamming the empty glass on the bar, rolling up her sleeves as she spoke, drowning, it felt like, in her own sweat and—blood? Was that blood? She was beginning to go numb from the alcohol and the pain; it felt good.

 _"_ _AAAAH!"_ Barbarism consumed her and she surrendered to it gladly, reveling in the pleasure and ache of rage as she launched forward and delivered another blow, this time to her opponent's stomach. He doubled over in agony and she could only go for more, fervent and impassioned, her warrior's instinct rising hot to the top, _volcanic_.

Suddenly: "Break it up, kids!" a voice cried over the roaring crowd, and she was yanked back, giving a startled cry and thrashing in the grasp of her captor—

"LET ME GO! LET ME TEACH THIS BASTARD A LESSON!"

"Ashei, that's _enough!"_

She realized, now, that she recognized the voice. The spark of recognition turned to dread, and suddenly a deep shame claimed her.

"Auru?"

"Enough of this, lady. Let's get out of here."

He dragged her out of the bar and into the alley, where the asphalt shone with rainwater, though an overhang protected them from the downpour. It must have been cold out here, but she couldn't feel it. Her breathing ragged, she fell forward into her arms and breathed, breathed. Suddenly, she felt sick.

The door behind her opened, then closed, and a warm figure kneeled beside her.

"Honey?"

_Gods._

"Telma, I…" she looked up and tried to focus on the stern, but concerned, face. Telma took her hands and grasped them firmly, saying nothing.

"This kind of behavior can't continue, Ashei," Auru stated. There was pity in his voice.

Ashei shook her head, stuttering. "He was saying—saying—"

"Doesn't matter what that good-for-nothing coward was saying," Telma insisted. "Don't worry about it. You can't make men like that your problem anymore. Here—I've got a towel, let me clean you up…"

For some time, the three sat wordless and alone in the alley, interrupted only by the splash of a car pulling up in the rain. The passenger seemed to tumble out and come loping over somewhat clumsily.

"Ashei? _Gods,_ I came as quickly as I could—you look terrible—thanks for calling, Telma—but Ashei, really, I can't believe this has happened _again_ —"

"Don't want to hear it, bookworm boy," Ashei grumbled at Shad through a lip that she thought might be starting to swell.

"Telma, I hope she didn't do too much damage," Shad fretted, kneeling down so his face was level with Ashei's. "Can you see me?"

Ashei looked up and registered, blurrily, Shad's terrified expression.

"Unfortunately."

Shad's face fell. "Yup. She'll be fine," he said flatly. Extending a hand: "Come along, Ashei. Let's get you home."

She didn't protest, merely taking her friend's arm and ascending, shakily, to her feet.

"You take care of her, honey," Telma said. Shad smiled wearily.

"I always do."

He helped her into the cab, and they rode home in silence. When finally they pulled up outside 99B South Brewer Street—a patchwork little apartment building wedged between two equally shabby buildings—Shad mustered up some energy to speak.

"Ashei, you. Are. _Exhausting."_

They paid the cabby and went inside.

"Calm down, _Mom._ He had it coming." She slammed the door behind her, cutting off the roaring rain and hiss of traffic on storm-soaked streets. Pellets of rainwater rolled from their clothes and splattered all over the floor, leaving puddles in their wake. At the top of the stairs, Shad fiddled with the door; it wouldn't open.

"...telling you, that guy was asking for a fist to the schnoz," Ashei was grumbling behind him. The door still wouldn't budge. He shoved at it again with a grunt, followed by a sigh. He seemed to deflate.

"I left the key in the car. Shit." He smacked his hand on the door. "CORO! Let me in!"

A shriek sounded from inside, followed by something clanging against the floor. A person scrambled around the apartment; Shad could hear the footsteps.

"Whoa, dudes!" a muffled voice sounded. "Shad, Ashei-I think someone's trying to break in!"

Ashei groaned.

"Oof-hey!" Shad complained as Ashei shouldered him out of the way and pounded her fist on the wood.

"Coro you wheezy-lunged dolt, it's Ashei and Shad! We're locked out! Get your head out of your bong and let us in!" She lowered her voice. "We need a new roommate."

"Ashei," Shad uttered, "keep your voice down-the landlord doesn't know about Coro's— _habits._ "

"Like hell he doesn't," Ashei snarled just as the door swung open. A set of bleary red eyes met theirs.

"Oooooooohhhhhhhh," Coro said, cracking a smile. "Lose your keys again?"

"Left them in a cab," Shad explained bitterly, advancing into the sparse, lazily decorated apartment. He started coughing immediately. "Gods above, Coro, you've hotboxed the place."

"Sorry, bro. The Sacred Stoners are over, we're breaking in Iza's new grav-bong."

"Well, I'd prefer you do that with the window open and the door shut, thank you," Shad groaned.

"Sure thing, bro. Whatever lights your lantern." And Coro vanished into the haze of smoke that was his room, slamming the door behind him.

Ashei collapsed onto the leather couch with a pronounced harrumph. "We've got to tell him to pack his bags."

"Please. Like you're any better," Shad scoffed from the kitchen, flicking on the fluorescent light and inspecting a drinking glass for cleanliness.

"Excuse me?"

"This is three times, now," Shad stated unabashedly. "Three times in six months. That's a lot." He filled the glass with sink water and brought it into the living room, where Ashei sat on the floor, her back against the couch, legs splayed out arrow-straight on the threadbare carpet.

"Here. Drink."

"I'm fine."

"You're drunk, and will thank me tomorrow."

Wordlessly, she accepted the vessel and drank deeply, even greedily. When she'd finished, she hung her head. "Shad... about tonight. I'm sorry, yeah?"

"Don't apologize to me. Apologize to Telma, and to that guy you— _probably—_ hospitalized."

"Probably? More like _hopefully._ That dirtbag doesn't deserve an apology. You know what he did?"

"Called you pretty?"

"No. It's not a joke. He was ranting on about the war. Said it was all a big conspiracy by Parliament to make money and the terrorist attacks were staged and that Link was just some actor they paid for the role—" She seemed to have choked on her words, and fell quiet.

Shad contemplated this in silence.

The rain continued to fall.

"More water?" he finally asked.

Ashei held out her glass. "Thanks."

Crossing the kitchen to the sink, Shad stopped short in front of the refrigerator. Adjusted his glasses slightly. On the refrigerator, a photograph:

A young marine, all in uniform, the Hyrulian flag waving behind him. In the photo, the man—teenager, really—looked jubilant, gallant. Untouched by war.

He hadn't looked like that by the end.

"Whoever said that was wrong about him," Shad spoke up so that Ashei could hear him a room away, though he kept his gaze trained on the photograph.

"Obviously."

"I might've punched him too, if I were you." He brought her a fresh glass of water. "Here. Drink up. Anything else I can give you?"

She smirked weakly, eyelids fluttering shut. "Some gods-damned peace and quiet."

It was, for all intents and purposes, a joke.

"Alright," Shad said quietly, giving a small smile. He took her hand, squeezed it, then dropped it and went into his room, leaving the living room empty but for her.

She sat alone for a while, illuminated on one side by the yellow light of the kitchen—on the other side, the blue light of the window—until finally she mustered up the energy to saunter into the bathroom, flicking on the light—it buzzed dimly, flies flitting about beneath the glass, little specks on that otherwise untarnished white beam.

In the mirror she found herself. But it didn't look like her.

She'd buzzed her hair off when she joined the marines. Now that she'd been discharged it was growing back in, and fell in uneven clumps in a sort of bowl shape around her head. All baby fat had melted off her face during training and had left a lean, sculpted countenance. Even her eyes were different-darker, somehow. Seeing some things, choosing not to see others.

She washed her hands methodically, and then splattered some water over her face, watching the dark makeup trail in torrents down her cheeks.

When she closed her eyes, she saw the flashes again. Smelled the smoke again. Somewhere near her-in front of her? Behind her?-a woman screamed. Bullets rained down. Capitol walls crumbled down and the message that had driven her here sounded again in her ears:

A horrid voice, crackling over the radio— _My name is Ganondorf—_ taunting them with information that he had the prime minister hostage-that he had the Capitol surrounded, and the city too-that he would blow them, all of them, sky-high if they so much as tried to take up arms against him-

She opened her eyes, and the flashing stopped. She knew, or wanted to know or at least believe, that the war was over-that Ganondorf's terror group had disbanded after Lt. Link Greene assassinated him-and yet it seemed impossible. With every footstep she feared a landmine, even though it had been a year since authorities decreed the threat dormant-no, eradicated. And yet-and yet-

The shaking.

She often shook. She knew that Shad noticed the nervous habit but he didn't say anything, he was so wrapped up in writing his damn book it was like he forgot all about the terror attacks last year, like he didn't remember the role he and the university had played in decoding encrypted messages, finding out about the threat before it happened-because now he was a researcher, now he'd moved on-so she believed.

And then, Link. Her friend Link, Link Greene the marine, Link Greene the assassin, Link Greene the war hero, Link Greene on the steps of the Capitol Building with Prime Minister Zelda Harkinian dangling medals of honor on the front of his jacket-Link Greene the photograph on the fridge.

Smiling.

Unknowing.

Undamaged.

Now he was Link Greene the memory.

They-Shad, herself, all of their friends-had known him at different times. Shad when Link had needed his help translating old Oacca texts-something about ancient technology and sky tribes, somehow that held an answer, it was all so vague, so obscure now—and then again, later, when he moved in with them temporarily. (Those vibrant days, made all the more beautiful by their brevity!)

But Ashei had been there with Link in the thick of battle, exchanging cries for backup and "roger that"s over intercom-there with Capitol rubble splattering down on their helmets-there when there was a fresh spray of bullets around every corner-they'd fought together, prayed together-risked everything, life, hope, all of it, together.

She washed her hands, then her face. Turned on the shower and stepped in, steam caressing her feet and ankles, rising slowly, lethargically towards her face, coiling about her. The water-scorchingly, furiously hot-scrubbed her clean.

The memories remained.

…

The Great Composer Brothers: Symphony No. 4 in A Flat Major - Allegro: "Sun's Song." Shad reveled in it-in the gentle cascade of the violins at the opening of the tune, in the trilling flutes, in the extended, exaggerated emotional tug at each note, as if to squeeze out the juice from every beat and upbeat...

Before him, a cursor stuttered on a blank page:

_"A close examination of our ancestry reveals that"_

Those eight words sat alone on the otherwise white sheet, huddled together like a lonely throng of beggars.

They'd been alone for a good ten minutes now.

All around him, volumes towered perilously towards the ceiling-thick, musty volumes on anthropology-beaten-up paperbacks on evolutionary biology, highlighted and annotated-and loose papers, so many brilliant documents bound with paperclips, award-winning essays on ancestry, diagrams from archaeological digs, theses about Hylian and human roots...

And then, in comparison, him:

 _"A close examination of our ancestry reveals that"_ and then nothing.

It was dry. Academic. Straightforward. _Boring._

In frustration, he removed his headphones, drew away from his desk, and stood up in the center of his part-bedroom, part-study-though these days his desk and the many volumes that surrounded it were encroaching upon and arguably violating the rest of the space in a manner that dubiously resembled an all-consuming blob monster—and made his way over to the window, an endeavor that more accurately resembled some intricate dance as he stepped, leapt, and twirled over and around stacks of papers.

When he'd reached the window, he pulled hard—the pane shuddered and creaked, dried flakes of chipped paint fluttering onto the sill as he lugged it open.

The rain seemed to have stopped for now and he stepped out onto the dripping wet fire escape. Wind whistled through the iron beams and ruffled his hair slightly, biting through his clothes and raising gooseflesh on his skin. He wrapped his arms around his chest and leaned forward on the railing, gazing out at Castleton.

It went on endlessly, a flat plane interrupted by the jagged thrust of skyscrapers. Even at this late hour—or early, what have you—the city pulsed with light, especially at its heart, where Hyrule's historic Capitol–a castle, once, now a Parliamentary building—mingled with the blazing energy of 2016. On a hot, mid-August night like this, the city never quieted.

Another window squeaked open behind him.

"Oh."

He didn't need to turn around to recognize Ashei's voice. The fire escape clinked softly as she stepped to his side. Glancing over, he noticed that her eyes were trained on a spot several blocks away.

"Don't look at it," he advised.

"It's hard not to, yeah?" She stood poised and erect, refusing to tear her gaze from where it had landed. "Look how they've cleaned it up. They even put in a new telephone pole. Would you know somebody had crashed his car? Somebody so important... to everyone?"

"What did you expect? A memorial?"

"They all—" she gestured to the city in its entirety—"owe him their lives. How can they just forget him?"

Shad was pensive. "I guess," he said quietly, "that's just how the world works."

"I can't believe you're willing to just accept it."

"If I wanted to change the world," Shad pointed out, "I'd be a scientist, not an anthropologist."

Ashei smirked weakly. "Can't argue with that—"

_BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP—_

A third window burst open behind them and a nebula of smoke came billowing from the fissure. Coro's head materialized in the haze, sputtering as he coughed. " _Whoooooaaaa_ bros, sorry 'bout that! Just the fire alarm, nothin' to worry about—" calling, now, over his shoulder—"out here guys, until the smoke clears!"

And so Coro's band of dopily-smiling stoners sauntered out after him onto the fire escape, half a dozen of them crowding together, the last one carrying out a bowl— _Spark up, dudes_ —

"Effing idiots," Ashei grumbled when the alarm had stopped and the smokers had gone back into their cave. "The rest of us out here working our asses off to work past the war and everything that came with it while they sit inside and do nothing with their lives, feel nothing—"

"You don't know that," Shad argued. "Maybe that's how they forget the pain. We all cope in different ways." It was an unspoken reference to the events of that night. Ashei recalled the bar fight with a pang.

"Whatever. It still pisses me off to see somebody like that living in Link's room—"

"What _used_ to be Link's room. It's been six months."

"That's the blink of an eye, Shad. I still expect to come home and find him in front of the TV sometimes." She was gripping the rail of the fire escape, her knuckles white. "It's not fair. How could he survive all that—the war, everything that came after—just to die in a car crash? It doesn't seem right, it doesn't seem fair."

"Nothing's fair." Shad's voice was soft and endlessly patient.

Her tone was surprisingly steady. "Do you think it was really a…"

 _A suicide?_ She didn't need to say it out loud.

"It's impossible to know," Shad reminded her.

"I said do you _think—_ "

"I try not to think about it at all," Shad interrupted, adding, cautiously, "I don't want to remember him that way."

"That guy tonight. At the bar."

"Yes?"

"All that he was saying—that Link was an actor, that the war was a ruse—it made me so _angry,_ Shad. But more than that, it made me frightened, yeah? Frightened that the whole earth will forget."

"People pass away, Earth still turns, and we hang on—to whatever _we_ decide is important, Ashei," Shad said. If he were the emotional type, he might cry, yet he remained stoic, impassive—he was just slightly aloof like that, distant like that. "We'll get through it, though. Tomorrow we'll go down to Telma's and make amends. Not that we have to, but we should. And start over from there."

She smirked. "If I had half your brain, I'd be—well, I don't know what I'd be. I guess that's just the problem."

"I have to write my book now."

"Sounds boring." She was reverting back to herself. He smiled.

"It is."

"In the morning, I'm going to be my mean old self. Consider yourself warned, yeah?"

Shad smiled. "I'll watch my step."

"Hm. 'Atta boy."

"Goodnight, Ashei."

"Uh-huh." She waved a hand lazily, but didn't turn around. "Right. 'Night."

And he stepped inside, closing the window on Ashei, on the city, on the night itself.


End file.
